


June 24th, California

by Julesin



Series: Runaways, or That Feel When Multiverse Theory is Confirmed Canon [8]
Category: Everyman HYBRID, MLAndersen0, Marble Hornets, Tribe Twelve
Genre: Gen, Minor Body Horror, Poor Evan I dont know why I do this to him, Possession, Protective Vinnie, Rhetorical Questions, Strangulation, Violence, he deserves better, references to violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 06:45:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12625428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julesin/pseuds/Julesin
Summary: The moment they got out of the car, the air changed. Everyone was on edge, and Vincent kept looking over his shoulder as they booked hotel rooms. Reaching their destination was bittersweet--they'd crossed over the California border about an hour earlier, but in the morning, they would be going back the way they came.





	June 24th, California

The moment they got out of the car, the air changed. Everyone was on edge, and Vincent kept looking over his shoulder as they booked hotel rooms. Reaching their destination was bittersweet--they'd crossed over the California border about an hour earlier, but in the morning, they would be going back the way they came. 

_"It's not safe in California,"_ Tim had sighed the night before. _"Damien suggests going to stay for one night anyway, but it isn't safer there, not anymore."_

The state had been experiencing mass homicides all along the coast, hundreds of people killed. The media couldn't tell what was going on, and just pinned it on terrorism, but Damien had explained the truth--more monsters, beings from outside their world, had started causing chaos. People causing crimes without knowing they were, being puppeteered by creatures far beyond the scope of their control. People who were supposedly safe, supposedly clean, murdering three in one night and leaving little to no evidence. 

Even as the nine of them spread out to their rooms, the televisions inside played news coverage of several attacks that had happened recently. Vincent did his best to ignore the voices of the anchors, choosing instead to close their curtains tight as he could, checking every inch of the room he, Evan, Noah, Michael and Jessica would be sharing. 

"-even as more reports flood in, the police are no closer to finding the perpetrators. There's no telling how many there are, and the police force hasn't offered any commentary on the search so far..." No shit. They weren't going to find anything. 

Evan was focused on the screen, soaking up information, and Vincent left him be, making sure the door to the adjoining room was unlocked and knocking before entering. The Hornets boys were setting themselves up for the evening, though Brian and Jay seemed just as invested in their television as Evan. 

"Hey, Tim," Jay called out, waving vaguely in the other man's direction without taking his eyes off the screen. "That's just down the street, isn't it? We passed that place on the way here."

Tim glanced at the TV, eyes darkening. "Yeah, it is." He met Vincent's eyes, giving him a look before shutting their room's curtains harshly. 

Vincent rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a shiver go down his spine, and stepped closer to Tim, leaning in to murmur in his ear. “I’ll go get dinner, Evan and I. We’ll head down to that pizza place I saw, shouldn’t be too expensive. We'll be back as fast as we can.” Tim nodded, fishing out about fifty bucks (just in case) for them, then moved to the door, clicking the lock into place with a dark expression.

Noah and Jessica were setting up a spare mattress they’d found in the closet, shuffling it into the empty floor space between the beds. Michael was staring worriedly out the window at the dark streets, watching the street lamps click on and shuffling his feet. Vincent put a steadying hand on his shoulder, offering a small smile, then skirted past the mattress on the floor to sit beside Evan. 

"So many people, Vinnie." His eyes were locked on the screen. "They're saying it's one of the biggest mass-individual homicides the United States has seen. What-" He swallowed, then turned to look at Vincent, tense. "What are we supposed to do?"

"We're not supposed to do anything," Vincent sighed. "There's nothing we can do except look after each other and survive. Speaking of which..." He dug out the wad of cash Tim had handed him from his back pocket. "We're on dinner duty."

Evan nodded wearily, taking a deep breath before standing and stretching. He sounded so tired, and Vincent momentarily regretted volunteering them for the job, but Evan was already tying his shoes, so they might as well just go. 

They left the hotel, determined to get out there and get back fast. The roads were encased in shadows, street lights making them dance on the buildings around them, and Vincent held Evan's hand protectively. The other man shivered, pressing closer, and his hand instead went to Evan's waist, holding him tighter than probably necessary. 

Three blocks in, someone appeared walking the opposite direction as them, and Vincent's hand tightened even further, making Evan tense. The other person watched the ground, seeming to be as uncomfortable as them in the open, and they passed each other without consequence, though Evan's hand slid into Vincent's pocket as if to get closer. They both let out a sigh of relief. 

"Wait a moment."

They froze, slowly turned around. The man was staring back at them, a strange look in his eyes that made fear shoot through Vincent's spine. 

"You," he intoned, staring straight into Evan's eyes. A smile crept onto his face, lopsided and inhuman. "You're an old one. How long you been here?"

Evan stammered, looking to Vincent and back. He was shaking. "I-I don't-"

"Oh, you're the vessel." The man's smile dropped. "A shame, really." In a movement too fast to be human, he shot closer and grabbed Evan's arm, pulling him away from Vincent. "Odd, your contagion hasn't taken full control."

Evan tried to pull his arm back but the man's grip was too strong. "Let me go! I don't know what you're talking about!"

The man sneered, and his abnormally long teeth gleamed in the light. "Oh, please. I can see its aura. Be glad no others have noticed you, I'm sure that purple glow can be seen for miles."

Evan stopped struggling, eyes growing wide. "Wh-What?"

Vincent dove forward, but he was too late, as the man's suddenly knife-like nails slashed through Evan's shirt, drawing four deep gashes up his chest. He screeched in pain and collapsed to hang lax from the man's other hand, intense shivers wracking his body. Vincent and the man watched, one in horror, the other in surprise, as the slashes rapidly closed, skin stitching together on its own. Eventually the only sign of the attack were tiny slivered scars, barely seen in the darkness. 

Evan resumed struggling. 

"Fascinating," the man commented, grip white-knuckled around Evan's wrist. "How does your contagion do that?"

"I don't. Know. What you're talking about," Evan ground out through gritted teeth, still pulling on his arm. Vincent took a step closer, but Evan met his eyes, expression determined and closed. _Don't come any closer._

"Oh shit, are you a perfect host?" The man laughed, his mouth opening disturbingly wide. "Nice! I haven't found mine yet, good job, dude."

Vincent's head was reeling. This person was obviously being puppeteered, he wasn't a human being. But what could he do? There was no way he could fight this thing on his own. The only reason Evan was still alive was because of Habit, if Vincent got hurt like that there'd be nothing to save him. 

Then something clicked in his mind. It was like what he figured an out-of-body experience would be, his arms moved and he felt them, but it wasn't him. Anger coursed through his veins, but it wasn't his anger. And as he tackled the possessed man with more strength than he was actually capable of, he strained to separate his own thoughts from the rage-fueled ones running through his mind. 

The screech the man emitted as he hit the pavement was like a siren, and Vincent's hands went to his throat, cutting the sound off the moment it started. The man's hands scrabbled at Vincent's, scratching skin off and running deep red cuts across them, but it didn't do anything. It was like Vincent couldn't feel the pain as his fingers tightened, cutting off the man's airway until the struggling started to die down. 

"Vinnie, stop!" Evan's voice pulled him out of his fog, and he was slammed back into control of his body. He fell backwards, and the man coughed raggedly, his eyes different from how they'd been moments before. 

Evan crawled towards him, pressing their shoulders together as the man slowly sat up. As his eyes cleared and he got his breath back, his expression turned fearful. "What are... Oh my god!" The man scrambled to his feet, backing away. "Did- Did I-? Oh fuck, I'm so sorry, I don't-"

Vincent cut him off with a shake of his head. This was a human. "Just-" He cleared his throat, his voice oddly scratchy. "Just go home."

The man looked back-and-forth between them, backed up a few steps, then turned and ran. 

They slowly relaxed. Evan pressed their foreheads together, then took Vincent's hands carefully in his. The pain was starting to set in, and Vincent winced as Evan ran his thumb over the gouges now littering his skin. 

"We need to just get dinner and go back," Vincent muttered. "Someone definitely heard that screech."

"Vinnie, it's ten o'clock."

"People will still be awake. We usually are." He struggled to a standing position, tugging Evan up with him. He shucked off his jacket and gave it to Evan, who gave him a confused look. "To hide the tears in your shirt," he explained. 

Evan pulled it on as they continued in the direction they'd been walking. They eventually broke into a run, tearing through the last couple of blocks to the pizza joint, and had to catch their breath outside. Money was exchanged, and the two hurried back towards the hotel, crossing the street to avoid the spot where they'd been attacked. Apparently, people were used to hearing weird noises, because no one was there, but it was better to be safe than sorry. 

By the time they reached the rooms, Vincent's hands and pockets were covered in blood, and he rushed to the bathroom to rinse and wrap the cuts. It took a while with how hard his hands were shaking, but he got it done, and when he came out Evan was still waiting, the pizzas no longer in his hands. 

"Hey, everybody's over there." He waved in the general direction of the other room, then reached out to take one of Vincent's newly wrapped hands. His expression was complex. "I..." His face tightened, and his voice dropped to almost a whisper. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Vincent reassured, linking their fingers together and squeezing. Evan nodded abruptly, though he was very obviously doubtful. 

A couple of questions continued circling through Vincent's head, unanswered as they went to join the others. Was the purple glow that entity mentioned Habit? How could he see it? If Habit was supposedly there, why hadn't he taken over Evan's body in months?

And what was a contagion?

**Author's Note:**

> I kinda like how this one came out  
> Poor Evan, I hurt him because I love him


End file.
